Necessary Evil
by Rurouni Tyriel
Summary: (ONE-SHOT) How do you know where the line between good and evil is? Sometimes its hard to see. Two heroes and one human struggle with their own morals and actions, and wonder if perhaps what they're doing it right.


**Disclaimer:**

I don't own the Justice League, though I wish I did. Or maybe just the hot kryptonian blondes.

* * *

**Summary:**

Dr. Hamilton used to be one of Superman's best friends, now he works for an agency that created Galatea and is preparing itself for a war against the superhuman population, and more importantly against the Justice League. The Question trusts no one and believes in the most ridiculous of conspiracy theories. And admits freely to spying on the other members of the League. And Supergirl just tried to kill a being that was, for all intensive purposes, herself. How do they justify themselves? How do they sleep at night? Set just after the events of 'Fearful Symmetry.' Rated PG-13 just to be safe.

* * *

Professor Hamilton adjusted the controls on the monitor, double-checking the vital signs of his patient, Galatea. The blonde girl was badly beaten up but she'd live. She'd live… just like Supergirl had, a few years ago, on this very table.

"Report," rumbled one of the military men standing to his side. Belatedly, Hamilton snapped back into the here and now.

"She'll live. She has a few wounds that'll take some time but give a week or two and she'll be in top form… just like before," he said.

"And what about the dreams?" demanded the other.

"We've set up a psi-shield around this facility, not even the Martian will be able to see inside here," said Hamilton with a sigh. He was very tired, it was very late. He slipped off his glasses, rubbing them on the edge of his coat.

"What about the rest of the League? They can't know she's here," said the first one again.

"I told you, we've taken every possible precaution. Report to your superiors, whoever the hell they are, that this place is lined with lead and perfectly protected for anything short of an invasion by the entire Justice League."

"An invasion that could be coming any day now," said the second military man.

"I know that!" grumbled Hamilton. Gods above, would he never be allowed to forget? Straightening his shoulders, he smoothed out his white lab coat. "Galatea is in my keeping, but you're not needed here. Get the hell out and go report to your superiors. Go tell them exactly what I think of this damn 'project' of yours."

Grumbling, the two men tossed off salutes (more out of habit than any respect to Hamilton) and departed, leaving Hamilton alone. Sighing, he switched off the lights, activating a yellow light to assist in Galatea's recovery. They couldn't risk bringing her outside with the League now aware of them, but the simulated yellow sunlight would assist her in recovering. Kryptonians tended to heal faster when exposed to the sunlight of their adopted home world.

Dr. Hamilton left the medical bay, and, satisfied he was alone, sat down in a chair and sighing deeply.

Curse him for being so weak, he thought.

* * *

It'd started out of fear, initially. Fear of Superman. He'd once been one of Hamilton's best friends, once been a close colleague, working alongside him to understand alien life beyond Earth. True, he'd known by then that some species were dangerous. Lobo, Brainiac, Dark Seid, and worse had tried to attack or conquer Earth, but Hamilton had never, not in his wildest dreams, ever imagined he would ever classify Superman as such a monster as they. Even when Jax-Ur and Mala had threatened him and destroyed much of Metropolis, proving that not all kryptonians were noble, not even then did Hamilton believe that the Man of Steel was capable of the same evil as they.

Until the day he attacked Earth.

Until the day he… forced… Hamilton to betray his country and save Supergirl's life, when both of them were war criminals, slated for execution. His gut clenched fearfully, recalling the look of anger in Superman's eyes. He'd hauled Hamilton up and threatened him. He hadn't said anything more than his name, but the warning had been clear enough. Save Supergirl… or you die.

Weak, fearful, unable to resist or stop him, Hamilton had done so.

Then she'd flown off after Superman, bringing him back from Apokolips, and after a few years most people on Earth had forgotten the incident. They didn't want to remember the horrors of war that Superman had visited upon them. They fully swallowed the story of manipulations at the hands of Dark Seid. Hamilton wasn't sure. He didn't know. But he was scared.

And that's when -they- came to him.

* * *

Kara lay down on her back, staring up at the ceiling. It was very late but she couldn't sleep. Though after what she'd gone through today, that wasn't any terrible surprise. Finding out you had a clone tended to be a shock to most anyone, but finding out you have an -evil- clone wasn't a though that would get you off to dream world anytime soon.

And what was worse wasn't the thought of her clone, but Kara herself. The Question had said that the psychic link they'd shared went both ways. That was why she hadn't been able to kill the Question in cold blood. That thought had managed to reassure Kara. But the next one hadn't been. She'd been willing to kill Kara. At first she'd asked why, then she'd realized something terribly chilling.

Because Kara had been willing to kill her.

Having a clone wasn't like in the movies. It hadn't been cool at all. It had been downright scary. Hamilton had been right, she had been scared during that surgery, being helpless. But she was even more scared of the thought that someone had taken her blood and given birth to… to… she couldn't even think of a word horrible enough to describe that clone. She felt violated, and she was scared to sleep. Scared of waking up again with the clone peering down at her. Or worse, trapped in a lab again, experiment on until they could make an army of clones.

That's why she'd been willing to kill her. She'd come damn close, before the whole facility had gone up in smoke. She'd barely had time to grab Arrow and Question before the entire place had been nuked to hell and back. Presumably her clone had been destroyed in the explosion. I mean, who could survive a blast like that? Doomsday maybe, or possibly Dark Seid, but that pretty much ended the list. Even Clark would've been obliterated by such a powerful explosion. But she'd tried to kill. And even that had scared her. Superman had taught her lesson after lesson about self-control concerning her powers. How they had a responsibility to use them for the good of mankind, and above all else not use them to kill. Superman never killed, even if that would've made his job easier. Supergirl didn't either. She still didn't. She was many things but not a murdered. And she'd shocked herself, last night, how close she'd come to being one.

But was she really gone? The Question had scared her with his conspiratorial thinking. That they'd meant to make her look dead. And he -had- been right about a great number of things since she'd first met him. Truthfully, could he have been right about the whole conspiracy thing? About some great society watching over everyone? Sounded like creepy material suitable for this weeks release in the movie theater, but she'd seen firsthand at least some of it was true.

Restless, Kara finally managed to fall into a restless, disturbed sleep.

But a sleep that was thankfully free of nightmares.

* * *

Vic Sage tapped the console in front of, allowing the image of sleeping Supergirl to fade away. He was satisfied with her behavior that she wasn't in any way involved or aware of her clone. She was too genuinely frightened. Long experience had taught him how to know such things. It wasn't easy to fool the Question.

Her screen flicked off, Vic reached forward, switching to another one of the screens on his laptop monitor. It was connected to a remote satellite and no one on board the Watchtower was even aware of just how much he was watching them all. They were all under video surveillance, of course, but none realized that he also had private videos of each of them. Not for pleasure, he wasn't a voyeur, but for protection. For information. If something went wrong (and it would, sooner or later) there would be a record. He even had a private camera hidden in his own quarters, designed to relay a message to others if the unlikely should happen to him. It was designed to go off by itself unless he re-set it every twenty-four hours.

Suddenly his feed was cut, and the entire laptop plunged into darkness.

"What the…?"

"Relax," came a shadowy voice from behind him. Batman stepped out of the shadows, holding up the power-cord. He tossed at the Question, who caught it, frowning behind his faceless mask. "You should be more careful with stuff like that. Anyone wandering in here could trip over your cord and cut off all your little projects."

"I'll have to fix that," replied the Question, irritated at the interruption. Then, decided to trade an insult with the Bat, added "Bruce."

Batman stiffened slightly, but he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. He wouldn't have been as easy to figure out as the Flash had been, but he supposed if someone was dedicated to finding out the truth behind such things, given enough time they'd eventually figure it out. After all, he certainly hadn't fooled Diana.

"You don't need to keep watching Supergirl," Batman said, pressing on. "I've checked her and her cousin out. They're no threat to anyone. And besides, I have precautions on hand in case they're ever… manipulated… to becoming a threat again," he added, tapping the side of his utility belt.

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for that?" asked the Question.

"Of course not. You don't take anyone's words. You never take anything at… face… value," said the Dark Knight, allowing another subtle insult to slip into their conversation. Now it was the Question's turn to stiffen angrily. "What I'm doing is telling you. Stop spying on all of us. We have personally made sure each and every member of the League is trustworthy, and even then we're taking precautions already. There's no need for you to be doing your investigating on us. Focus your efforts on something else."

"You know I can't do that," replied the Question.

"Try," replied the Dark Knight, turning to leave the room. He'd issued his warning and was ready to return to other duties. More pressing matters, really. Like investigating the new reports of Intergang and Thorne's crime Syndicate starting to form an alliance for mutual benefit in both cities.

"How do you sleep at night?" tossed out the Question.

Batman froze. That bastard -knew-.

"You don't trust them anymore than I do. You didn't, at least. You and I are too alike in that regard. The difference is you've lowered your guard. Mine is still up."

"My guard isn't down," grumbled Batman over his shoulder. "I've just decided to focus it in more important directions. Because the sort of life you're living," said Batman, tapping the poster on the Question's wall that read 'I believe' for emphasis. "Its an empty life. And you're going to keep searching for conspiracies that don't exist and make them up as long as you can until you realize that you're wrong. And I wonder how -you- sleep at night, worrying that aliens are going to install brain-control chips into your teeth."

"I sleep just fine," replied the Question, recognizing the question within the quasi-insult. Batman wanted to know how he justified his actions. Spying on his own teammates and such. "I do what I have to, in order to learn the Truth. That's all that matters."

"You keep telling yourself that," replied Batman, fading into the shadows, leaving the Question alone.

Undisturbed by the Dark Knight's arrival, Vic Sage calmly picked up the cord, re-attached it, and went back to his observations. It would keep him up most of the night but it didn't matter. It wasn't as if he slept much anyway.

* * *

"Professor Hamilton," came a shadowy voice, making the poor doctor jump fearfully.

"Whose there?"

"Relax… you know who we are," said the voice. In the dim light, Hamilton could see a figure in the shadows, but couldn't make out features. He never could. They were always good at hiding who they were.

"Galatea's fine, didn't your military buddies tell you?" he asked irritably, angry with himself for jumping like a scared cat.

"There is no need to bear us such hostility, Professor. All that we're doing is for your own good," said the shadowy figure.

"Who determines that? You? Or are there more higher ups I'm not aware of? Or maybe even some you're not aware of? Who determines this?" asked Hamilton angrily, tired of all this.

"We do. That's all you need to know."

"What we're doing is wrong," said Hamilton, gesturing at the glass screen and, through it, at Galatea. "It was bad enough you wanted to experiment on metahumans, but creating a clone? Have you no souls?"

"Don't get so high and mighty on us," said the shadowy figure, a hint of menace creeping into its voice. "There is as much blood on your hands as there is ours."

"I know, and I'm sickened by it," said Hamilton.

"We cannot trust these so-called 'heroes.' They are uncontrollable. They are dangerous. General Hardcastle recognized this, recognized the danger of the aliens, who have no loyalty to our world. And the metahumans as well. With all those powers, they won't be content to work alongside us. They'll think they're better. And from there things will only go downhill. So we must dam the river before it grows any wider."

"I know all of that," said Hamilton, a chill running down his spine. He'd heard this argument before. It was a very good one in fact.

It was his.

"But I do not enjoy this… this… torture of children and teenagers, making them into living weapons. This isn't right," he said.

"Then what do you suggest, good doctor? Can you suggest to us a foolproof way to deal with even one member of the League? No, you cannot. We need to fight as they do. That was, of course, our initial reasons for training those kids in the Nevada desert."

"And we saw what happened with them," said Hamilton. "They become a bunch of villains far worse than the League, acting under the orders of a criminal madman."

"We will keep trying until we get it right," replied the shadowy figure. "And despite tonight's setbacks, we are impressed by your results with Galatea. Truthfully, a fitting name."

"The perfect woman," muttered Hamilton, referencing an old roman myth that he'd used when finding a name for his creation. The bruised and broken blonde lying on the table now in the operating room.

"The perfect -weapon-," replied the shadowy figure. "Strong, fast, powerful… deadly."

"I don't like this," said Hamilton again.

"The alternative is we let them win… do you really want that, Professor Hamilton?"

Silence greeted that. Hamilton was thinking, actually considering the question. Did he want that?

_A super strong hand grabbed him by the front of his bio-suit and hauled him into the air, forcing him to look down at an enraged face. Angry eyes peered up at him as a single word was barked in a harsh, unforgiving tone._

_"__Hamilton__!"_

"No," he reluctantly replied. Then, more firmly, he said, "No."

He'd made his decision. Now he had to see it through.

"Think of it as a necessary evil," remarked the shadowy figure. "We understand them perfectly. Sometimes to do more good…"

"Spare me," said Dr. Hamilton. "I'll keep working on your project, you know I don't have much choice now. If I try to leave you'll probably have her kill me just like Hardcastle."

"A choice we would not enjoy making," assured the shadowy figure. "But a choice we -will- make, if necessary."

"Don't bother. I know where my place is. Its here."

Necessary evil, huh?

Sound just about right.

* * *

Kara awoke a totally new girl. Smiling, she sat up in bed, stretching out her limbs and rejoicing in the fully rested state in which she awoke.

No more nightmares.

Overjoyed, she didn't so much as run so much as fly down the stairs to breakfast with Ma and Pa Kent, and put up only the barest amount of protests when they assigned her the chores for today. She felt good enough to do anything, even muck out the horses' stall.

It never once entered her mind that she'd tried to kill someone the other day. She pushed it back into the dark part of her mind, caged it up with her fear and anger and hatred, and for today at least… pretended it didn't even exist. The dreams were gone, and so was her clone, that meant. She could rest easily. And the death hadn't even been on her conscience (though she did feel a little sad for what had happened). All was well. She could likely even return to active duty tomorrow, after a talk with J'onn.

All was well.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Supergirl isn't technically a kryptonian, I know that. She's from Argos from the Krypton system of space (like how J'onn is from Mars, from the Earth system) but I doubt many people on Earth know the distinction between her and her 'cousin.' Hamilton's account is more or less accurate of the events of 'Legacy' though of course from Hamilton's somewhat distorted point of view. I purposefully didn't reveal what Batman's sleeping habit is (oh fearful continuity), feel free to make up whatever you like to insert there. He could sleep with a pink bunny or have rough kinky sex with Diana every night. The point is the Question -knows-. Continuity also forbid me to give face and form to the conspirators from 'Fearful Symmetry' and thus I was reduced to a shadow form and voice. Actually I'm tempted to suggest Lex Luthor, if he hadn't "supposedly" decided to play by the rules and become a politician. Or maybe Grodd. 'Secret Society' anyone?


End file.
